


The Secret Parts of Him

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Political RPF - Russian 20th c., Григорий Р | Grigoriy R | Rasputin (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Felix and Dmitri see things in each other no one else does.
Relationships: Dmitri Pavlovich/Felix Felixovich Yusupov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	The Secret Parts of Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> Thank you so much to [Bond_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bond_Girl) for translating the lyrics and providing some cultural context. I appreciate it!

"Who is that?" Felix nodded in the direction of the strikingly handsome young man across the room.

Vasily sipped his wine. "Oswald and Freidrich?"

“No, the blond man, there.” He carefully pointed to help his tipsy friend. “I’ve never seen him before.”

The man appeared to be listening attentively to whatever the woman next to him was saying, yet his gaze had caught Felix' at least five times in the last few minutes. He wasn’t listening to her, not really, and perhaps of everyone in the room only he and Felix knew it. Felix thought he could see the man's secret face, just under the surface of the one he put on for everyone else’s benefit. Much like his own, it was bored, weary of so many high society traditions, and somehow alone even in a room packed with people. 

The woman was pulled away by someone who might have been her husband, wanting her attention for himself. The handsome man did an admirable job of trying not to look relieved. He glanced at Felix again before turning away with a tiny smile.

His face seemed so fresh, so youthful and open. His expression hinted that he was enjoying a joke no one else heard and was trying not to laugh, maybe at the ridiculousness of the people around him or the excess and opulence of the affair. The sheer hubris of it. 

Or at how he’d drawn Felix’ attention, and in turning away had intrigued him even more. 

He was beautiful in his amusement.

Vasily finally focused on the correct person. “Pavlovich? He’s been courting Olga Romanov. How have you not been introduced? Unacceptable. Come!" Vasily led a weaving path through the room. 

"Vasily," the man said as they approached, but his smile was aimed at Felix. 

"Dmitri, allow me to present to you Prince Felix Felixovich Yusupov, Count Sumarokov-Elston." Vasily patted Felix' back. "Felix, meet the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich."

Dmitri's grip was firm, and he didn't let go as quickly as most. "I’ve heard of you, Prince, and am pleased that we finally meet.” He tucked his chin so that he gazed up at Felix. 

"Excuse me. I'm going to get more wine." Vasily tottered away, bumping into two people who responded with annoyed gasps. 

"Is Vasily celebrating anything in particular tonight?" Dmitri asked. 

"Free wine?" Felix plucked a small round cookie from one of the dozens of platters on the long tables in front of them. He chewed with deliberate slowness. 

"But it's not free, is it?” Dmitri said. “Not if it's used to soften people's grips on their money, as I assume every charity function intends." His mouth curved up at one corner, and Felix’ breath caught for a single heartbeat at the beauty of it.

"It's free for Vasily. He's more the ambassador of good cheer at these events. Never a donor." Felix sucked sugar off his fingertip.

Dmitri watched, licking his lips. He stepped closer and clasped his hands behind his back. "What charity is this event for? Remind me.”

Felix laughed. "I would if I knew. My mother has so many events in this house for so many causes, I can’t keep them straight." He took another round cookie from the plate and held it up between them. "You should try this. Delicious. If you’re hungry for something . . . sweet."

“Thank you.” Dmitri’s smile didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed. “I am.”

If they'd been alone, he was sure Dmitri would have leaned in and accepted the cookie with his mouth. His fingertips brushed Felix' with purpose as he took it. 

Dmitri held his gaze as he ate and slowly licked his lips when he was done. "I understand you are betrothed to Irina Alexandrovna." 

"I understand you are winning the favor of Grand Duchess Olga Romanov."

Neither had asked a question, so neither answered. 

Felix checked to see if anyone watched them. He wiped a bit of sugar from the edge of Dmitri’s mouth and nibbled it from his fingertip. Dmitri gasped and looked around them before licking the spot Felix’ finger had just touched. He smiled in a way Felix had not seen him smile at the woman earlier, and a way Felix knew he would never smile at Olga Romanov.

* * *

Dmitri held the doctor’s elbow and helped him sit. After Grigori Yefimovich had stumbled out of the room, the doctor had swayed and gone white. Instinctively, Dmitri had grabbed him, but if he’d had time to think he might have let him fall. 

The doctor was the most innocent of all of them. He’d laced the food and drink, but anyone could kill in such an impersonal way. He’d been the only one who hadn’t participated in the beating.

Dmitri didn’t hate him for that, though. He hated him for standing back and letting Felix check Grigori for signs of life. For letting the blood of that beast stain Felix’ face. He wanted to drag Felix into the next room to wash it off, because seeing it there, Felix’ horrified screams still echoing between his ears, was close to snapping him down the middle. 

Gunshots cracked outside, and Dmitri could have wept with relief. Felix ran from the room, leaving him with the doctor and the lieutenant. 

“It is finally done,” the doctor mumbled. 

He wanted to shout that the doctor had declared him dead once before and perhaps to hold his tongue until he did a proper examination. But he didn’t, because he wanted it to be true. 

Purishkevich returned with Felix a step behind him. Felix didn’t follow him into the room, but hesitated at the door and rushed away. Purishkevich either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “We need to collect the body. We’ll wrap him--”

“I’m going to check on the Prince.” Dmitri cared even less about what Purishkevich said now than he had before. 

“He’ll be fine. We need to gather the body and finish this.”

“I _said_ I’m going to check on him. Alert me when we're ready to dispose of him.” He found Felix standing in front of the basin with the faucet open. He stared at himself in the mirror, a cloth in his shaking hand, held out as if he’d reached for the water and forgotten halfway there. 

“Felix.” Dmitri took both of his hands, kissed his fingers. “Be calm, Felix.”

“Calm. Yes.”

Dmitri wet the cloth and turned Felix to face him. Finally, he could clean the blood from his skin. He wanted to scrub it away, but Felix needed gentleness now, with his eyes so wide and lost. “You are going to be all right.”

“Of course.” Felix’ lopsided, uncertain smile broke Dmitri’s heart.

When he’d wiped away the last trace of blood, he pulled Felix into his arms and cupped the back of his head. For the first time since Felix had gone downstairs with the beast alone, Dmitri could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said against his shoulder. 

“What could you be sorry for?”

“I took the gun from you because I wanted to be the one. The one to hurt him for what he did to you. And . . . I couldn’t . . .”

Dmitri kissed Felix’ neck and held him tighter. “No, no.”

When Felix had come upstairs to see Grigori on the floor, sorrow had flickered across his face. Dmitri thought he'd almost moved to help the man up. He'd only kicked him when Purishkevich screamed for them all to beat him. Only with prodding did Felix remember the slights against them both and the cause for which they’d conspired. 

Dmitri saw the secret parts of him and knew what he was. Talented, strong, clever, but far too gentle for the business of murder.

“Don’t be sorry, my love. You’re not a killer.”

Felix lifted his face. A tear tracked down one cheek. “We are all killers now.”

Dmitri kissed the tear away, then kissed where others might fall. “Shhh. You were brave to face him alone. Braver than most men. And so strong.”

They all felt _something_ when Grigori leveled his gaze at them. He didn’t believe there was anything holy or mystical about him, but a sliver of doubt remained. Anyone might have been unable to face him alone and murder him. 

He wished the beast would walk into the room magically alive so he could murder him again for making him hear Felix scream, for making him see Felix' beautiful face covered in blood. If he might have hesitated before, he would not now. How long would it be before he stopped seeing his lover in that state when he closed his eyes?

Dmitri wished he’d kept the gun from Felix and tried to murder the man himself. One shot to his head would have prevented so much suffering for all of them.

“Come and sit.” Dmitri sat in the chair next to the basin and pulled Felix onto his lap, cradling his head and stroking his hair. “You will stay here while we take care of things, and I’ll come back to be with you.”

“I should go and help.”

“I don’t want you to. I want you to stay here and wait for me.” _You’re in no condition to go._ “Then if something goes wrong, you won’t be involved.”

"If you come back and stay too long, the others will notice.” 

“The others are caught up in their own worries for tonight." Dmitri let a smile play at his lips. "They were even too distracted earlier to notice how I drank you in like rich Madeira as you lifted your weights to pass the time."

“I noticed.” Felix’ lips no longer trembled. “You looked resolved to them, but to me you looked ready to spread across my blankets.”

Felix had used his weights in front of Dmitri before. He used them when he was nervous, debating one decision or another, or when he wanted to soak up an adoring stare. It had served a dual purpose this time, because it was no doubt intended to impress the others, as well. Felix worried about such things, about being seen as strong and powerful. If Dmitri had taken the gun back, Felix might have been ashamed, worried the other men would think him weak.

Dmitri had to stop thinking about it, because it was over and could not be changed. 

"I loved watching you show off for me, right in front of them, and they had no idea. They won’t see what they don’t want to see.” Dmitri kissed him tenderly. “I am glad you see me when others do not. In ways the others do not.”

Felix traced Dmitri's bottom lip with a fingertip. “Have we done the right thing, Mitya?” His voice caught, his eyes shining with renewed sorrow. “Truly the right thing for Russia?”

“I believe it. Yes.” He combed his fingers through Felix’ hair. “And it is done, one way or the other, so we will make it right. For now, think of other things. Think of things that make you smile.”

“Think of you, you mean.” Felix did smile, just enough.

“Always. I want you to always think of nothing else.” He thumbed away the single tear that threatened to fall. “Singing makes you happy. My joy at your singing, happier still. Sing to me, Felix.”

“Mitya,” he whispered, shaking his head, but his mood had shifted away from despair. “No.”

“You sing or I will,” Dmitri threatened. Then he sang, “ _Like a light-blue flower in the snowy winter_.” 

He laughed at the awfulness of his off-key song, and Felix covered his own eyes, biting his lip and fighting a smile. Dmitri continued, _“I saw your beauty_.”

He pulled Felix’ hand down, and Felix rested that hand against Dmitri’s cheek. “ _Times will change_ ,” Felix sang softly.

Together they sang at a whisper, the words slowing as they reached the end. “ _Heartache will blow away. A tired heart will know happiness_ . . .”

“. . . _once again_ ,” Felix finished. 

Dmitri kissed him, fingertips stroking the back of his neck. “Splendid. As always.” 

They sat with their foreheads pressed together, sharing breath, until Purishkevich shouted from the next room that it was time to go and finish their terrible deed. 


End file.
